When the words slip free
rain through fingers
sunlight pouring loose,
lost
and tossed to wind’s whim,
refuse to assemble
along ivory battle lines,
I long to study their foreign roots
utter origins of Latin, Arabic
command them with proper accent
and woo their road-weary hearts
into submission.

These uncertain syllables
bob and sway
squeak out their hesitant“quoi?” and “que?”
and wander about in the streets
left to their own recognizance;
collect ammo of my ignorance,
plan their final ineloquent mutiny.

Yes, words wander everywhere and yes, it is uncertain how they read – only I feel so lucky that you reach out and I feel so lucky that you can use Google Translate.
Mange tak for digtet og jeg er også fascineret af ordenes oprindelse.